


Changes

by Beek_100



Series: Moments [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:24:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beek_100/pseuds/Beek_100
Summary: Following on a week from the events of Paul's Night, Paul finds himself in a dilemma when he invites Daryl over for an evening of drinking and hanging out.





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Still awful at summaries, I'm sorry if anyone finds this update more boring than the last, I'm working on other parts of this series at the moment which will pick the pace up a bit, this was more filler in some ways. Reading of part 1 is probably necessary to understand what’s happening here. Hope you enjoy!

It had been a week since Paul’s fateful night and the man was exhausted for a whole different reason. He had retrieved the last of his stuff from Alex’s apartment that day and as he lay on what was now his bed in Tara’s spare bedroom, he was feeling reflective.

They hadn’t just collected Paul’s stuff; the two friends decided in was in their best interest to be petty as they wandered through Alex’s pristine apartment. On top of messing up his painstakingly alphabetised DVD and CD collections, they also took his designer shampoo (but not the matching conditioner) and unplugged all of the cables behind the entertainment unit, rearranging them into a nest of plastic that would take him hours to unravel and reorganise. After closing the door and videoing himself posting the key through the letterbox, Paul once again let pettiness rule his actions as he bent and snatched up Alex’s personalised welcome mat, tucking it under his arm as he carried the last of his stuff downstairs.

As he laid there, running his hand over the soft bedcovers beneath him, Paul couldn’t help but feel thankful for the people he had in his life. Maggie and Glenn had helped him remove himself from the joint bills attached to Alex’s apartment the day after he stayed at Daryl’s, and Tara was happy to let him stay at her place and foot half the bills but not the rent until he saved enough for his own place. But, it had to be said that the person he was most surprisingly thankful for was Daryl, and his skills at distraction from all of the shit Paul was going through.

In the seven days since they met, the older man had rescued him, fixed his car, fed him breakfast (Paul never did end up waking first that morning) and gave Paul his number to call anytime he needed anything. And the man had not been lying. The two had used their new communication channel to text back and forth about nothing and everything every day and night since. Paul felt like he’d known the man for years; they just clicked.

Their endless stream of messages- and one slightly awkward phone call the night before- had culminated in the two of them making plans for food and drinks at Tara’s place tonight. Tara had managed to score another date with the woman from last week- a psychiatrist called Denise, who she spent half an hour gushing about to Paul- and seemed to think she would be getting lucky, if her suggestive statement of “ _Don’t wait up”_ along with an exaggerated wink before she left was any indication. Paul hoped it worked out, he hadn’t seen Tara this excited about someone for a long time.

Once she had left, Paul turned into a cleaning tornado; he scrubbed the bathroom and kitchen from top to bottom, vacuumed the floors and had his food app open on his phone ready to order whatever Daryl was hungry for. Paul had no idea why he was losing his mind so much; he’d met Daryl _seven days ago_ and they were only friends after all. He simply had no reason to stress.

Those thoughts evaporated, however, when the door buzzer sounded. Paul launched himself at the intercom like a man possessed and had to catch his breath for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

“Um, hey…it’s Daryl”, came a scratchy reply through the speaker.

“Hey! Right on time! Oh! Um, sorry I’ve buzzed you in, door should be unlocked”

Paul turned off the intercom and took another deep breath, running his hands through his hair to smooth any knots that had formed. When a soft knock sounded on the front door, he rushed to open it, excitement coursing through his veins.

“Hey, man”, Daryl smiled as the door swung open. Paul smiled back and stood aside to let him in, subtly admiring how he looked in his clean, dark shirt, jeans and leather jacket. He also noted the six pack of beers tucked under the older man’s arm.

“Hey, place wasn’t too hard to find?” Paul asked.

“Nah, found a space for my bike right outside, too”

“You still owe me a ride on that by the way, thing’s badass”, Paul smiled, leading Daryl to the kitchen where he’d left his phone, “Thanks for bringing the beer, too”

“You’ll get a ride, don’t get ya panties twisted”, Daryl laughed, “And that’s alright, had to bring something for the host, ain’t that what you’re meant to do?”

Paul rolled his eyes dramatically before holding his phone out for Daryl to take.

“Here. Pick whatever you want from the menu, it’s on me” he said. Daryl shook his head immediately.

“Nope. We’re sharing the cost, none of that ‘treating me’ bullshit, you’ve already done enough treatin’ sortin’ the website shit out”, he said firmly. Paul’s natural instinct to dig his heels in and argue was outweighed by his desire to not upset the new friend he’d only had a week. He sighed.

“Fine”.

****

“Bullshit! The first Die Hard will always be the best!” Daryl repeated for the third time as he wiped pizza grease from his fingers.

“I disagree! The second movie is better! And the first is basically a Christmas movie so it doesn’t even count as an action movie”

“Man, don’t even start the debate over whether it’s a Christmas movie or not”, Daryl laughed, taking a sip from his beer. Paul stopped himself from staring at the way Daryl’s lips looked around the head of the bottle.

Their conversation and laughter drifted into a comfortable silence filled by the quiet sounds of the radio Paul had turned on. He was surprised at how content he felt just having Daryl for company. After ordering their food, they had moved to the couch, where they had spent the past two hours talking and had only stopped to eat their food when it arrived.

Paul had delighted in telling Daryl about all of the things he and Tara had done to Alex, which the other man had found hilarious. In turn, the mechanic had spent nearly 15 straight minutes complaining about a woman who had brought her car in for a clean thinking it was a car wash and the amount of time it had taken he and Merle to explain that they were a garage (“ _You should’ve seen the look on her face, man, when she realised. Priceless”_ )

As their silence continued on, Paul found himself with a desire to listen to Daryl talk for as long as possible. The man had a charmingly shy but honest way about speaking about himself that Paul wanted to hear again and again.

“So, how did you and Merle get into repairing cars?” Paul asked.

Daryl looked to be considering for a moment before answering.

“Well, always had a knack for fixin’ things, started to fix things that broke in our trailer growin’ up cause my daddy weren’t gonna do it”, Daryl said disdainfully, “Fixed the fridge, radiators, TV and his truck when it broke before he could notice. Got pretty good at it”

Paul frowned at the insecurity he sensed and approached the topic with caution.

“Your dad wasn’t so hands on, then?” he asked.

“One way of puttin’ it” Daryl muttered, nodding. He hesitated before continuing.

“He was a drunk, liked to hit me and Merle but mostly he just ignored us”, he said, “Left with Merle when I was 17 and never looked back. Got a call from our uncle Jess last year, bastard died choking on his own vomit in that same trailer, didn’t bother goin’ to the funeral”

“…and your mother?” Paul asked.

“Dead. Died when I was 5, barely remember her”

Paul’s stomach churned with sympathy.

“I know it makes no difference and is an overused phrase in these situations, but I’m sorry”, he said quietly.

“It’s fine, been years, I’m over it”

“You’re never over it, Daryl. I’m glad you can cope with it better now, but I also know it never goes away. So I’m sorry that you have to live with that”.

“Sound like you’re speakin’ from experience”

“Yes. Not the same situation, but I know how dealing with all that shit can be tough”

Daryl nodded but didn’t pry or ask questions.

As they shifted into another comfortable silence, Paul felt himself falling into the black hole of memories. He snapped himself out of it and reached for his laptop on the coffee table.

“Oh, hey! I finished the template for your website, have a look”, he exclaimed excitedly, pushing the laptop onto Daryl’s lap. The other man grinned and happily scrolled through the links and images Paul had created.

“Jesus Christ, man” Daryl murmured in awe, “This looks awesome. How’d you get these pictures?”

“Merle”, Paul grinned, “When he heard what I was doing he said he wanted to help me, and I quote, ‘fix that piece a shit my baby bro calls a website’- so he gave me the photos to scan and upload”

Paul had had the pleasure of meeting the older Dixon brother the day after he had slept at Daryl’s. While his new friend fixed his car, Paul had hung out in the office and happened to run into Merle. After some awkward introductions, the older man had spent nearly ten minutes regaling Paul with the details of his date the night before. It had been entertaining, though Paul could’ve done without learning all about her _tight as fuck pussy that fit Merle like a glove_.

Despite his brash and crude personality, Paul had decided he liked the older Dixon brother almost as much as Daryl; there was just something honest about them both. The fact that Merle seemed to be a supportive and helpful brother despite his outward personality just made Paul like him even more.

“’Course he fuckin’ did, old brat”, Daryl muttered fondly, shaking his head.

“He seems to really care about you. And vice versa, of course”, Paul said quietly.

“He’s all I got, all I’ve had since I was a kid”

“That’s nice”

Daryl looked up at Paul’s small, sad smile and gently placed the laptop back on the coffee table. He turned back to the long haired man and appeared hesitant.

“What about you?” Daryl asked.

“What about me?”

“Any family drama of your own? Bratty siblings who don’t know how to mind their own business?” Daryl asked, chuckling. Paul answered it with a small chuckle of his own and steeled himself.

“Erm, no, actually. No family at all” Paul said quietly. He caught Daryl’s look of confusion and took a deep breath.

“I’m an orphan. Parents died when I was 3, so I only vaguely remember them. Didn’t have any distant relations the system could find, not that they tried very hard anyway. I was raised in the system and got passed around several group homes because no one wanted to adopt the sad, lonely gay boy who liked to grow his hair long. Had to learn karate and judo to defend myself from the older kids and ended up loving it, so I’m a black belt in both as well as taekwondo and jujitsu. I’ve never had a relationship that didn’t end badly or with a massive blow up. I have trust issues, and I’ve been arrested twice”

Paul took another deep breath in, “That’s everything I can think of right now, obviously there’s much more”.

There was silence between the two men that was filled with regret on Paul’s part. As he fought with the instinct to run from the room and hide, Daryl spoke again.

“Shit”, he said, “I’ve been arrested three times before, think I got you beat, man”

Paul’s head shot up as shocked laughter broke from his lips. The older man smiled at the expression on his face and nodded. Paul felt warmth spread through him at Daryl’s obvious attempt at comforting him. It had crossed his mind that Daryl might have had a similarly difficult past; he could tell sometimes when his instincts felt strong enough. Paul smiled back.

“One was for breaking and entering into my ex’s house to get my stuff back when I was 17 and the other was for being drunk and disorderly when I was 27; decided to mark the ten year anniversary of the first one by doing it again, you know?” Paul joked.

“Two of mine were for drunk and disorderly, once when I was 18 and the other when I was 25. The other one was for assault two years ago when my friend, Carol’s, ex-husband turned up at her house and tried to take her away from her new husband. Beat his ass six ways to Sunday and only got two days in a county jail and a bullshit anger management course. Sometimes it pays to have the Sherriff’s Deputy be your best friend”.

“That’s Rick, right? And Carol is the one who’s married to the Zookeeper with the dreads, Ezekiel?” Paul asked.

“Yeah, that’s them. Suppose Merle ain’t the only one I got, got them too. And you now of course”

Paul smirked and shook his head at Daryl’s joking attempt at flirting.

“So, you said no other relationship had ended well- you and this Alex not gonna be able to be civil if you run into him?” Daryl questioned.

“No idea, to be honest”, Paul sighed, “It’s weird how fast he went from being someone I really cared about to being the enemy”

“Yeah, know how that feels. Listen, I don’t wanna sound preachy, but do you think forgiving them and letting it go would maybe make you feel better?”

Paul considered Daryl’s suggestion for a moment.

“I mean… I’ve never done it before, so I really don’t know”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“I’ve never forgiven anyone for anything they’ve done against me. Each time I’ve been wronged before, I’ve just shut that person out of my life and moved on to other things and places. Been that way my whole life”

Paul nervously met Daryl’s shocked and confused gaze for a moment before the other man spoke again.

“Wow”, he said, “that’s…”

“I know”, Paul said, looking away.

“…a really lonely way to live”

“You’re not…gonna judge me for that?”

“Why would I? It’s your life, Paul, I’d never judge you for your choices. I just think that that’s a lonely way to live and not a nice way to treat yourself”

“It’s all I’ve known. I’ve never had anyone in my life. I’ve only known Tara, Maggie and Glenn for two and a half years. They’re important to me, more than anyone’s been before; I’m Hershel’s Godfather for God’s sake! But that doesn’t mean I didn’t still want to leave when I walked in on Alex and Wes. I mean, I wasn’t driving in the middle of the night that night to clear my head”

“You…you were leaving?” Daryl asked.

“Yeah. Didn’t really have a plan on where I was going but I knew I didn’t want to stay. Just easier to leave it all behind and start again”

“So, if you hadn’t broken down that night, we would never had met”

Paul looked deep into his friend’s now sad eyes. He could feel himself getting sad as well at the realisation. It was true, had his car not died that night, he never would have met Daryl o even known he existed. The thought made his heart feel cold in his chest.

His expression turned determined.

“But, we did”, Paul said firmly, “And I’m fucking glad we did”

Paul grinned at Daryl and let it widen as he saw Daryl’s answering one. It was a moment that Paul felt stretching on and, in any other situation with a potential future partner, he’d have already leaned forward and closed the distance between them in a kiss. But, this time he paused and decided to wait, reminded himself that he had only known Daryl for a week and they were only friends.

Almost as if to save Paul making the decision, Daryl laughed a little and looked away. When he looked back at Paul, he appeared more relaxed.

“Okay. Enough of the sentimental shit- back to the serious conversations. So tell me…Jack Daniels or Jim Beam?”

****

Several hours later, at nearly 1am, the two men sat facing each other on the couch couldn’t control their laughter. Paul’s story of the old woman who attempted one of his judo classes and ended up dislocating a hip had the two grown men in tears as they sipped from their glasses of Jack Daniels (both having agreed it was better than Jim Beam). They had cracked open Paul’s bottle of the whiskey after finishing the beer Daryl had brought and had allowed themselves to get comfortably buzzed enough to let their inhibitions go.

“Fuckin’ hell, man, that’s amazin’”, Daryl slurred slightly. Paul’s cheeks warmed at the new knowledge that Daryl’s Georgia accent became stronger when he was drunk; he wasn’t ashamed to admit he really liked it. Could imagine it in other situations, speaking lowly over a romantic dinner, or growling in his ear as he pounded into Paul’s— _whoa,_ he stopped himself, _maybe I’m a bit drunker than I thought._

Paul chuckled at Daryl’s observation to cover up his previous train of thought.

The two slid back into comfortable silence as Paul set his empty glass on the coffee table. As he listened to the faint sounds of people leaving the bars in the street below the apartment, Paul considered that Tara had not come home yet and smirked to himself. _Maybe someone did get lucky after all._

Daryl set his glass on the coffee table too and barely managed to conceal the yawn that broke from him as he did so. Paul laughed a little and reacted without thinking in his tipsy haze.

“Am I boring you, Dixon?” he asked, only sounding a tiny bit flirty he thought.

Daryl snorted and turned to face him again.

“Nah, I’m wide awake, trust me”, the Southern man drawled as he leaned his elbows on the armrest at the opposite end to Paul.

Paul swallowed and deliberately looked away as his traitorous mind pointed out how tight Daryl’s shirt had got over his impressive chest at the action.

“Yeah, you look it”, he joked.

“Must look somethin’, you ain’t stopped starin’ at me since I walked in here”

Paul froze and snatched his eyes up to meet Daryl’s and was relieved to see they were relaxed instead of accusatory. He smirked at him, well aware of the voice in the back of his mind warning him that he was in the flirting danger zone.

“Well, I admit I have been looking, yes. But only because I think that shirt and jeans combo is terrible. Who wears a black button up with faded grey jeans?”

“How dare you?! That’s it, I don’t think we can be friends anymore, man. You’ve crossed the line”

“What?! I’m the one who should be breaking things off with you! Who eats their pizza crust first?”

“Real men, that’s who. Real mean who don’t care about gettin’ the grease on their without cryin’ about it”

“I did not cry about it, it’s not uncommon for people to want to keep their hands clean. My hands are very special to me- they’re very skilled”

“Oh yeah? Prove it”

“Yeah? How?”

It took Paul a moment to realise that during their flirty back and forth, the two of them had come practically nose to nose with each other. He could smell faint cigarette smoke and the remnants of the aftershave Daryl had put on before coming out. He could see the silver flecks in the other man’s beard easier this close up and the small mole hidden beneath the stubble on his upper lip. Lips Paul wanted to kiss so badly the urge was becoming painful to ignore. So, he did the smart thing and leaned back.

“Erm…you really do look beat. You should, um, take the spare room tonight, I’ll sleep out here”, Paul offered, making more distance between him and Daryl.

The older man seemed to shake himself slightly before nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, uh, I’m gonna sleep here, too buzzed to drive anyway. But, I’ll take the couch, you don’t have to give up your bed for me”

“No, no I insist, really-“

“Nah, man, I know I’m the guest or whatever, but-“

“Exactly, so you should have the bed-“

“Can’t we just share the bed?”

Paul paused and frowned at Daryl slightly. The older man was having trouble meeting his gaze.

“I mean, I saw it earlier when ya gave me the tour, bed looked pretty big so I’m sure we’d be fine on it, I don’t know”, Daryl mumbled.

Eventually, Paul nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, actually you’re right, why can’t we?” he asked rhetorically, standing up, “I have some spare PJs you can borrow, they’re in the top drawer of the dresser, I’m just gonna go use the bathroom real quick”

Paul scurried to the bathroom at the end of the hall as Daryl padded on light steps to the spare room and closed the door behind him to get changed.

As Paul entered the bathroom and closed his own door behind him, he caught sight of himself in the vanity and shook his head.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

_****_

Paul couldn’t remember being tenser lying in bed since childhood. Growing up in group homes had made him a light sleeper naturally, but he could not remember having ever taken so much effort to fall asleep before in his life. He was afraid to move, breathe too loud, and alter where his pillows were to make them comfier or take off the socks he had worn to bed when he usually would take them off before even getting into bed. And the reason for his fear was laying less than a foot away, wearing Paul’s old Darkness T-shirt and a comfy pair of pyjama pants that were too big for Paul and giving off such a strong heat that it was like sleeping next to a furnace.

The only saving grace was that Paul appeared to not be the only one that was stressed. Daryl had turned rigid as soon as the light was shut off by Paul and had not relaxed since. The only difference between the two men was that Daryl’s breathing was quieter. _Probably a trait learned from years of hunting_ , Paul thought. Although impressed by the other man’s ability to stay near silent, it also made Paul worry more about the noise he was making.

After laying in silence for what felt like an hour, it dawned on Paul that he hadn’t said a word since asking Daryl if he was alright for the lamp to be turned off. He should probably make conversation, crack a joke, do something. But he was out of his element, he’d never been in bed with a man who he hadn’t already fucked or was gearing up to fuck that same night. He’d never shared a bed with a friend because he only developed friends in later life when sleepovers were less popular and had never had one.

As he pondered over what to do, the silence was broken by a very small murmuring from Paul’s right.

“I can go sleep on the couch if you don’t want me in here with you”, came the insecure rattle of Daryl’s voice.

Paul’s statue-like position was broken immediately as he turned on his side, facing Daryl and placed a hand on the older man’s closest arm.

“No! Daryl, I don’t care that you’re sleeping here, this whole thing is weird for me, but it’s not about you”, Paul promised, squeezing Daryl’s bicep in his hand. At the contact, Daryl also turned to face Paul head on and bravely met his gaze in the dim light.

“I get it, weird for me too, but that’s only cause I like ya, a lot”, Daryl whispered. Paul gasped a little, mouth falling open slightly.

“It’s okay if you don’t—“

“No, I do! I really do like you too, Daryl. I feel this connection with you that I’ve never felt before, it’s like I’ve known you all my life, and it’s only been seven days. But that’s the problem, it’s only been _seven days_ ; a week ago, I was lying in bed with my boyfriend who I was happy with and now I’m lying in Tara’s spare room with a man I met a week ago, who I’m starting to have real feelings for but I don’t want to rush anything. I don’t think I’ve laughed as hard in about a year as I have tonight, but I don’t want to risk this becoming just a rebound and not working out because you’re a great friend and person that I want to keep in my life, and—“

Paul’s babbling speech was cut short as a pair of soft and shy lips met his own. He responded straight away, forgetting his own words entirely and reaching a hand up to cling to Daryl’s shaggy hair as he deepened the now firm kiss and slipped his tongue into Daryl’s mouth. The older man moaned as their tongues met and slid closer, wrapping an arm around Paul’s middle, finger nails raking down his back through his shirt.

They kissed for several minutes before breaking apart, breathing heavily and staring into each other’s’ dazed eyes. After a moment, both broke out in laughter and rested their foreheads together.

Paul sighed as the laughter subsided and shook his head in disbelief.

“Wow. We aren’t gonna be just friends, are we?” Paul asked, not caring in the slightest about the answer.

“Nah, I think we’re a bit past friends, Paul”.

And as the older man leaned in again for the second kiss of many to come, Paul found that he really liked the sound of that.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always greatly appreciated!


End file.
